


42

by rhink_is_my_kink



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bottom Link Neal, Bottom Rhett McLaughlin, Come Eating, Deepthroating, Dom Link Neal, Dom/sub, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Husbands, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Sensory Deprivation, Sub Rhett McLaughlin, Switching, Top Link Neal, Top Rhett McLaughlin, married rhett and link, no betas we die like men, rhink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 21:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21083468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhink_is_my_kink/pseuds/rhink_is_my_kink
Summary: Rhett had averyhappy birthday this year. Turns out 42 ain't so bad after all.





	42

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get Link's gas station IG story out of my head. Why did Link have sex hair? Why was Rhett so giggly? Why did Rhett have so much good stuff to say about his birthday this year?
> 
> So, here it is.  
I'm garbage, kthx.

Link knows from experience, that Rhett’s blindfold is damp around the edges from the sweat that slides down his brow. And it’s soaked on this inside from the tears that leak from his eyes. The headphones that cup over his ears and block out all the sound around him feed his ears a steady diet of slow, grinding guitar riffs; the musical equivilent of some depraved, perverted sex act that would make the author of the Kama Sutra blush. 

They’ve been at this for  _ hours _ \--ever since Rhett polished off his second McRib. 

Rhett’s throat is raw from gasping, crying, being choked, and being fucked by Link’s fat cock. He’s begging, trying to cajole his husband to remove him from this intense isolation. At least, he  _ thinks _ he is. He can’t hear anything over the music, so he has no idea if he’s actually making any noise at all anymore. 

His hands are bound to either side of Link’s headboard with the soft hemp rope Link loves. His legs are free, but they have to be, so Link can use him at his leisure. Come leaks out of his ass onto their silky silver sheets. 

Link’s dick leaks from hearing how rough, fucked out, and sexy Rhett sounds. He’s called out for Link several times but has received no succor for his efforts. He doesn’t really want out, despite the begging. Besides, he has a safe word to use if he needs to. 

Rhett’s world has shrunk to fill the three senses Link’s allowed him to keep. 

His sense of smell is filled with  _ LinkLinkLink _ . Rhett can smell him with every inhale. Link’s shampoo, his aftershave, his sweat, and his come are the four most prevailingly  _ Link _ smells he can think of, and every breath inward earns him another ambrosial lungful.

His sense of taste is similarly engulfed with his sweetheart. His tongue is coated with the briny flavor of Link’s orgasms, and the earthy musk of his husband’s asshole. From deep in his throat comes the distinctive copper tang of irritated and inflamed mucous membranes, a gentle warning from his body that precedes true injury. 

His sense of touch is the most overwhelmed right now. Because of the show and their public appearances, Link can’t mark up his torso like he  _ wants _ to, so Rhett’s groin area is covered with hickeys, and perfect imprints of Link’s teeth ring his soft parts. Bright red handprints pepper his legs and ass, leaving their long-fingered sting everywhere. Link loves to mark up his husband and watch him wince for days afterward.

Rhett feels so secluded with the loss of his two most important senses. He writhes on the bed, whining, and calling for Link. He doesn’t know how long he’s been alone, or where Link’s gone. He wants nothing right now but to see the crooked smile of his sweetheart.

Of course, Link hasn’t been more than a few feet away from Rhett all afternoon. He’s been absorbing every little moan and whimpered word that passed his lips, every wriggle of his long body, and each bond-testing tug on the rope around his wrists. Link’s knots are secure, as they always are, but it doesn’t stop Rhett from trying to find a fault in the system. 

Link has certainly been more than a casual observer. He can’t resist a chance to fuck his man into the mattress, eager to see Rhett’s cheeks flush later, when he has to squirm to find a comfy way to sit at dinner, and every whine and adjustment later at the movies as his body reminds him of Link’s attentions. He’s also made efficient use of Rhett’s talented mouth. Rhett’s gag reflex is nearly non-existent, so the only limitation he had when deep throating Link, was the need to breathe occasionally. Rhett’s tongue is more than capable of taking Link apart at the seams, so Link risks the beard burn to his taint so he can ride Rhett’s face and let his husband’s tongue keep his tight hole loose and wet. 

And now Link sits by the bed, mere feet away from his husband, listening to all the deliciously wrecked sounds he makes. Watching him hump at the air, desperate for Link’s touch, his leaky, neglected cock, leaving wet trails through the soft hair on his stomach. Listening to him quietly sob  _ pleaseLinkplease.  _ He sits, and watches, and teases, and touches himself because he has to. Because Rhett is so fucking beautiful it hurts.

Link rises, and picks up one of the champagne-soaked strawberries from the bowl on his nightstand. He gently thumbs at Rhett’s bottom lip, startling the blinded man--unavoidable--but Link still apologizes by gently stroking fingers through Rhett’s unruly beard. Again, he traces his thumb over Rhett’s bottom lip until his mouth pops open obediently. 

He’s so thirsty, and the alcohol in the cold champagne soothes the savage burn in his throat. He sucks on the strawberry, humming as the bubbly treat carves an ice-cold trail down his esophagus. The way he sucks at the strawberry like it’s the head of Link’s cock, paired the pornographic sounds that come from him make Link weak in the knees. He palms his dick, stroking the heel of his hand down the length with a groan, then gives in and jacks himself slowly. 

He quietly coaxes Rhett to eat the strawberry, only allowing him small bites so he doesn’t choke on it. He feeds his sweetheart a few more berries in this slow and reverent way, until Rhett’s gravelly voice starts to sound like something approaching normal. 

Link takes his juice-sticky thumb and swipes it over his slit to gather some of the precome that he’s milked out of himself. He slips this thumb into Rhett’s open mouth. Rhett sucks at it as if it were another strawberry, and licks around it when he realizes it’s not. The salty bite of Link’s jizz sends goosebumps racing down his body, and makes him shudder and buck his hips, hunting for some friction on his painfully hard cock, but only succeds in smearing more precome over his stomach. Link has come several times this afternoon. But Rhett had not yet been allowed a single orgasm, and it’s made him achy and desperate.

“Link, please.” He sobs the name, and the painfully sweet sound of Rhett’s anguish makes Link curse. His picks up his phone, and switches the music off, leaving Rhett’s ears full of the fuzzy white noise created by the absence of sound. “Baby, I need you,” Rhett says, and this time it’s breathy, and full of need.

Link climbs up onto his bed, knees sinking into the soft memory foam. He straddles Rhett’s thighs, soothing his tongue over his husband’s nipples. When he rubs over them with his rough cheek stubble Rhett whimpers his name. His chest hair is matted from sweat and friction. Link pulls it roughly when he drags blunt fingernails over his chest, leaving angry red tracks; perfectly symmetrical trails of fire. 

He gently works the damp blindfold up and off of Rhett’s eyes, closing them gently with his fingertips so the dim afternoon light of the room doesn’t hurt his lover’s eyes. After a few moments Rhett slowly flutters them open to be met by Link’s cyan eyes. Rhett’s eyes are wild and bright green, they sparkle with unshed tears that Link swipes away with his thumbs. 

He makes gentle shushing noises as he removes the headphones from Rhett’s ears. It’s the first Rhett’s heard of his beloved since Link put the noise-cancelling headphones over his ears hours ago. “Hi, bo,” Link says gently, and Rhett could weep with how beautiful his husband’s voice sounds to his ears. 

“So,” Links begins, “We have to leave for the movies in a couple hours. Since you’re the birthday boy, I’m going to let you decide. Do you want to come now, or do you want to come later?”

For a split second Rhett was sorely tempted to joke and say both, but that would almost certainly mean Link wouldn’t let him come today at all. Rhett wasn’t going to risk that on his birthday, and he knew, in the end, it would probably end up being both anyway, so he just says, “Now, please. Wanna come now, bo. Please fuck me, want you inside of me.”

Link looks contemplative for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve already done that this afternoon.  _ Twice _ . So I have something else in mind.” Link slides backward until he’s straddling Rhett’s hips, and reaches under him to circle Rhett’s thick cock with his agile fingers. Rhett growls a curse when the head of his cock catches on Link’s rim, and Link sinks down onto him in one fluid movement. Rhett’s head spins giddily when Link sinks down onto him in one long, silky glide. 

“Oh,  _ shit _ . You were already--”

Link shrugs his broad shoulders and says simply, “I had to do something to keep myself busy when I didn’t have my cock in you.”

“Fuck, Neal. ‘S my birthday and you’re trying to kill me. My goodness.” Momentarily forgetting that his arms are still tied up, he reaches for Link. A low, frustrated growl tears out of him, and he starts babbling, “Please untie my arms, bo. I need to touch you. Gonna make you feel so good. Wanna make you come, Link. Gosh, please.”

Link reaches for the bandage scissors he had earlier placed on the nightstand next to the bed. They were there so he could quickly free Rhett if he safe-worded, or, as in this case, untying the knots was just inconvenient in the moment. He snips the rope around Rhett’s left hand, releasing the tension on the rope that runs behind the headboard to his other hand. Rhett’s hands immediately fly to Link’s narrow hips.

“It’s okay, baby,” Link soothes, “Fuck me please. You can come whenever you want, birthday boy.” He rolls his body in one lithe, fluid motion, groaning at how full he feels.

Rhett grips Link’s slender waist with crushing force, and starts fucking up into the searing tight heat of Link’s perfect ass. Link bends forward to lick along Rhett’s lips, groaning low when Rhett grabs a handful of his silver-streaked hair, and uses his grip to bend Link’s head back so he can suck and bite at his goozle. 

“Fuck, bo. You feel so fucking good.” The praise falls from Link’s mouth like rain, and Rhett is delighted to drown in it. “Gonna make me come, baby. So fucking good for me. Fuck me harder. I wanna feel you every time I move this weekend.  _ Fuck. _ Fill me up, bo. I want us to both be sloppy and leaking come later while we try to enjoy the movie.”

Link rolls his limber hips into every thrust Rhett throws at him, and after being edged all afternoon, it isn’t long before Rhett’s desperate to come. He already has permission, but he begs anyway, because being at Link’s mercy makes  _ everything _ so. much.  _ better _ . 

“Link, please. I need to come. Want to. Please, Link. Want to do it for you.”

Link’s breathless nod of affirmation is all that is needed to push Rhett over that edge. A few more shaky thrusts and his orgasm rips through him, bowing his back up off the bed as he comes hard, chanting Link’s name, drenching his husband’s insides with dirty, wet heat.

Link grinds down onto Rhett until his full-body tremors subside, and he starts to whimper with overstimulation. Link rises to his knees and starts jacking his thick cock with long, tight strokes. 

“Where do you want it, bo?”

“Mouth. Wanna taste you,” Rhett groans in a shaky voice that sounds like he’s been gargling with loose gravel.

Link plants a hand on the headboard, and leans over, resting the head of his dick on Rhett’s generously offered tongue. He milks his cock quickly, stripping his hand over the shaft with practiced efficiency. 

Rhett’s almost too exhausted to help Link get off, but he rallies some effort to kitten lick around the sensitive head of his cock, and he drags his bottom teeth along the glans, making Link come with a dramatic curse. The first few spurts land prettily on Rhett’s tongue, then Link backs up just enough for the rest of the pearly drops land in Rhett’s beard. 

He collapses next to Rhett with a grunt. “You okay, bo?” 

“Yeah,” comes Rhett’s dreamy-sounding reply.

“Hey, don’t go to sleep yet. Gimmie your hand.” His capable fingers made quick work of the knot around his right wrist, and then his left. “At least let me get you cleaned up first. Your beard’s a mess” Rhett shakes his head stubbornly. “Alright,” Link acquiesces, “it can wait.”

“Time ’s the movie?” Rhett slurs sleepily.

“We’ve got a couple hours. Do you want to take a nap, bo?” Rhett nods his shaggy head. “Well hang on a minute. You need to drink some water first.” He offers some water to Rhett, holding the glass so Rhett can sip from it without dropping it.

Rhett hums happily when Link runs fingers through his thick hair. “Damn. You’re getting shaggy, brother. I like it,” he declares. Then softly drawls, “Are you having a good birthday so far, baby?”

With an emphatic nod he affirms, “This has been the best birthday I’ve ever had in all my years, buddy roll.”

“It’s not even over yet! It’s still the middle of the day.”

“Yeah, but as long as I spend the rest of it with you, it’ll be the best.”

Link feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest with love for this man. Instead, he checks his phone to make sure there’s an alarm set to wake them up when it’s time to leave for the movie, and pulls the duvet over them. He coaxes Rhett onto his side so he can rub his husband’s back so it’s not sore when he wakes up. As the tightness in his back lets go, Rhett falls asleep with a happy huff.

Link smooths Rhett’s hair, trying in vain to tame the stubborn wing that swoops up next to his ear. He really does love how wild and wavy Rhett’s golden hair is becoming. He molds himself around Rhett from behind. Making himself the big spoon he presses a kiss to Rhett’s pale shoulder and whispers, “Happy birthday, bo. I love you,” and falls asleep cocooned alongside his husband in their warm bed, as the afternoon spirals out around them, snug in the center of their own little world. 

**Author's Note:**

> No betas, we die like men.
> 
> Thanks for liking, commenting, and subscribing!
> 
> My first time writing anything involving the Rhink/RandL fandom.  
Go easy on me, plz.


End file.
